Shattering my right leg.
Receiving the acceptance of the seven demons
Was a gift I held close,
Even when she dragged me through the mud.
I had come so far, but gone nowhere.
The smell of my old wheat fields teased my senses,
As she dropped me down on a wooden fence post.
None of it mattered to me anymore.
She could have my body;
She could have all my physical traits,
But she would never steal my memories.
I prayed to not see my torture,
But she held me close to death at all times,
So close that I could see angels in a valley of green.
Before I could linger, she pulled me back to reality;
Back to that darkened village of hatred.
As she slammed my head deep into the ground,
I saw visions of trees ripened with lush apples
So red that they stood apart from the green leaves.
I saw the muddy ground from my upside down state.
My fingers sliding across, collecting dirt.
I met the outside wall of a building with vengeance,
With my body proving to not be the victor in the battle.
White clouds danced within the sky.
No storms, no rain, no lightning.
The pressure she applied as she gripped my skull
Went deeper than skin; deeper than bone.
I could feel her nails upon my brain.
My body followed my head
As she slammed my face into many obstacles.
I wished for a quick death,
Instead I was granted eyes that would not close.
She was not allowed to kill me.
She was not allowed to gift me what I wanted.
Ironically, I was enlightened with humor.
My bruised organs made it difficult, but I was laughing.
My disrespect would not be tolerated.
No pain, no agony or anguish would ever change that.
I hated her for what she was.
I hated her for what she was tasked to do.
I hated her because she enjoyed it.
She lifted me and held my face close.
Through one eye, I saw her frustration.
I saw her anxiety with me not allowing her to succeed.
I landed in the mud of the pig sty.
The friendly creatures allowed me room.
Small acts of kindness in such a horrible place.
Upon the arrival of my enemy,
Their large bellies were split in two and tossed aside.
By my ankle, I left the mud.
With her fingers gripped around my neck,
She lifted my bruised body.
Her eyes were still as beautiful as ever;
Mine could barely be opened.
She wanted to break my will.
Hidden within me was a severely shattered will,
But I would not allow her to prosper from it.
My demeanor was that of a victorious king
Although my body did not reflect the same.
She held me close to study me once again,
But, before she could see the truth,
I prompted her into a new direction.
As anger sank deep within my mind,
I gathered any lose saliva and spit directly in her face.
She flinched, dropped me where she stood.
With my body in shambles, I could not move.
I could only wait for her reaction.
The blood mixture smeared across her perfect skin.
Could she be tempted away from God?
Her anger was well noted, but how far could she go?
The villagers could have never killed me,
But she had the potential and the anger to succeed.
Was she capable or was she a true servant of God?
Even the wolves and crows disobeyed their master.
I recall being thrown deep into the woods.
I could feel the branches splinter
And the leaves rub against my skin as I passed.
My spine against a hardened trunk halted my movement.
The tree buckled from the fight and tilted to the ground.
The sweet smell of sap held my senses.
The wind swayed the trees, as she approached.
On one knee facing down, my head was lifted
Until my eyes looked upon her.
Her study began again, but my displeasure for her
Influenced my next disrespectful deed.
A hand full of dirt filled her eyes prompting my release.
Her finger wiped her open mouth to rid the substance.
Her hand trembled and her muscles shifted.
I saw her think freely, not as a pawn of God,
But as an individual entity.
Her mind was racing to control the anger.
I had tempted her well.
My death would be her death.
My failure would be her failure.
Her face of beauty stained with blood and dirt;
Her mind pondering my outcome.
I remember her reaching down, grabbing my split chest
Like it was a basket; using my ribs as the handle.
The force lifted my torso as my arms to bent backwards.
As I was being raised, the world seemed to stop.
The leaves no longer floated; the trees no longer swayed.
I could not feel the wind; I could not feel my heart.
The once hidden stars now were clear for all to see.
I have seen the darkest of nights and brightest of days,
But I had never seen the sky distorted before.
Vengeance controlled the reigns
As it drained into the thickened trees.
I do not know if I died that night.
I do not know if she met the same fate as I,
But her anger was subdued.
The clouds converged upon both of us.
The rest remains darkened and hidden
Within the surrounding trees.
II: ENLIGHTENMENT
I wish I could recall everything that happened,
Not for my understanding,
But for my appreciation of God’s power.
Once again, I awoke in a barely lit cave.
The candlelight flickered on the rocky ceiling,
And I felt my right arm being pulled with pressure.
When my vision adjusted,
I rotated my head to see Asmodeus smiling.
The vision of my dear demon friend of lust
Was comforting to me, but it did not last.
I could not feel my legs; only my left arm.
I raised my head and saw that my
Legs were detached from my body,
But still aligned just below my torso.
My eyes pulsated with panic.
Asmodeus tried to calm me,
But the sight of my detached limbs
Blocked out any hope of pacifying me.
I swayed my torso, trying to collect the pieces,
As if merely touching the severed stumps would help.
My friend climbed upon my chest and held my face.
She hushed my trembling soul
As my eyes shifted violently within my skull.
My shaking came under control,
But my heart and breath remained unstable.
She caressed my forehead and sang a sweet song.
She said that she was sewing my left arm on
And that she would get to my legs in due time.
The pressure I felt from my right arm
Was from her stitching my flesh back together.
I laid my head back down and stared at the cavern ceiling,
Trying desperately to forget about my legs,
While she told me the story as to how she found me.
She said that she wa
s drawn
To the village by my presence there,
But when she arrived, I had already been dismembered.
Her conversation soothed my pounding heart,
As she had always done in the past.
Always telling me what I needed to hear.
I trusted that she would reconstruct my body.
With my limbs being sewn back together,
I had time to dwell on my situation;
To reflect upon my reality and task.
Why was my captor visiting?
The encounters never ended well for me.
I thought about each visitation.
They all had one trait in common;
Depression.
My depression caused me to avoid my task.
My depression always subdued me,
To the point where I ventured away from my path;
Away from God’s plan.
I assumed I was being punished for my betrayal.
She served as my alternative to fulfilling God’s desires.
She was the shifting winds and ever changing tides,
Used to steer my ship’s sails.
She was my balance;
My walking cane upon the path of God.
Asmodeus smiled at my thoughts
As she finished attaching my right shoulder.
She described my captor as a banshee of God’s will.
I used both of my arms to prop myself up.
My friend crouched along the floor
And slid one of my legs close.
I felt blood drain into my foot as each vein adjoined.
Soon I was able to bend my toes.
Such a small action, but well missed.
Standing upon two legs again,
I had no revenge planned for the banshee,
As she was only doing her task.
However, my new goal was to never see her again.
If God desired for me to unleash sin onto mankind,
Then I would fulfill my promise.
Asmodeus collected her belongings.
We walked from the cave
And stood on the threshold of the hill
Overlooking the village below.
I turned to speak to my friend,
But she was no longer by my side.
She was there only when I needed her.
Nothing more, nothing less.
With no possessions to call my own, I felt reborn.
The night air tasted different.
My head was clear of clouds.
My eyes were no longer blinded.
My burden was concise with a path laid out.
No longer obstructed with crossroads.
No more wonderment; no more confusion.
Before I proceeded along God’s way,
I had unfinished chores within the village.
I walked past the river,
Where they drowned me.
I walked past the column,
Where they burned and staked me.
In front of the door where the wine flowed
Was the young child with his branch in hand.
His persona shifted to be Amon, the demon of wrath.
She handed me two short scythes
And proceeded to open the door.
I accepted her gifts as an invitation and walked inside.
All of the villagers who held me captive
During my weakened state were there.
I felt my blood boil and my heart race.
Their eyes widened at my presence.
They had each taken ownership for my demise
And used my hallowed torso as evidence
To secure their stories of personal heroism,
But they were not heroes.
They were judging eyes that preyed upon the weak.
Unfortunate for them, I was no longer weak.
They were each frozen to their chairs at the sight of me.
Their fears realized, as I locked the door behind me.
They never could have given me death;
For I was death.
I was everything a man should fear.
I was the dark of night; the shadow behind the sun.
I was the demon they took me for,
But I was much more than that.
I was something no mortal man could relate to.
I shared the same flesh and bone, but my core was evil.
In front of the door, I stood.
On the edge of madness, I resided.
My breath for the first time matched my beating heart.
My eyes were closed, but I could see everyone.
The hero of the crowd, the one who covered my face
With goat flesh, rose from his chair.
The eyes of his peers were upon him,
Prompting him to be the hero once more.
With slight hesitation, he came to me.
There were so many ways I could have killed him.
With urging shouts from the crowd,
He reached out with both arms in hopes to grab me.
He would never touch anything again.
I rotated my scythes and separated both of his arms.
As he kneeled before me in pain,
I rested my blades on either side of his neck.
He pleaded with me, but his words were not heard.
His tears were not for the remorse of torturing me,
But for his own salvation.
His mouth filled with spit and slurred his speech.
My blades pressed against his throat,
Denying it the method of swallowing.
With the eyes of the crowd upon me,
My blades crossed against each other
Releasing the head from its owner.
Fear struck the room, as they witnessed
Their only chance for survival slump to the ground.
I fed on their terror; I drank from their panic.
Life was not an option for them.
I tore through their flesh.
I was immune to their pleas.
My scythes carved through their flesh with ease,
The blades never becoming dull.
I had a sense of relief as I stood within a sea of red,
Blades dripping with the mortal substance.
With no more confusion or depression,
I was enlightened by the freedom my mind gifted me.
Two villagers remained untouched by my hand.
Each trying desperately to keep their distance from me.
I stood above them as they trembled.
I wiped one of my blades on his clothes
Before carving seven slits into his forehead.
One for every day I spent in that cave.
For every demon I met; for every sin I endured.
Seven.
I flipped the other over and ripped apart his shirt.
His bare chest served as a canvas for my name.
I carved deep so that regardless of the healing process,
The letters of my name would be scarred.
Satan.
They would each live to tell the tale;
Forced to travel in separate directions,
Never overstaying within a village, town or city.
Their stories would relive my visit;
Their scars would be their backing.
Burdened to spread the story of what happened.
I had promised God upon leaving the cave,
That all would know my name.
And it would happen, one village at a time.
I unlocked the door to allow the two survivors outside.
I could hear their screams as they ran.
My stay within the village had been too long winded;
I had other relationships to forge.
I headed north with the stars as my guide.
After a long period of isolated travel, I heard a familiar sound.
The faint tone of squeaking wheels greeted me.
&
nbsp; Leviathan, the demon of envy was approaching.
A large grin on his face greeted me,
And he immediately began
One of his traditional, everlasting conversations.
Although not my first choice for companionship,
I was still grateful for him to join me.
As we walked, he mostly talked.
We spoke of my meetings with Amon and Asmodeus.
He informed me they would appear to me when needed;
That they were an extension of me.
I was their leader
And connected beyond ways I would not understand.
For now, my conscious held that power.
When I got angry, Amon would appear to guide me.
When my pride surfaced, Lucifer would emerge.
He said that the concept goes deeper than that though.
My mind would decipher which demon to summon.
Traits of sloth, did not always mean Belphegor
Would be the demon of choice.
My fate, my journey would be kept straight and narrow;
My demons were my guide to drag me along.
He said as my gifts matured,
I would be able to beckon who I choose.
But for now, I was at the mercy of my mind.
I asked him about the banshee who haunted my dreams.
I asked if there were others.
He said each banshee is granted just one person.
Mine was unique only to me;
Built from my darkest imagination.
He explained that the banshee
Was one of the many eyes of God.
A scout upon land that researches her prey
And sends word back to her master.
Regardless of the topics at hand,
Levi did help pass the time,
We soon neared a boundary gate
With a sign that read ‘City of Hell.’
I turned to ask Levi a question, but he had disappeared.
He had served his purpose and departed.
I was quickly approached by a person asking me
What purpose I had in the city.
My silence prompted him
To ask if I was part of the trading caravan.
My response was yes.
Laughter and celebration created the aroma of the city.
Everyone’s face consisted of wide-eyed expressions.
They all freely roamed, some even dancing.
So much happiness made for quite a peculiar sensation.
I walked along the main path receiving smiles
And colliding with apologetic people.
Every eye contact was followed by a greeting.
It was a social celebration of life,
Where all rejoiced in the gifts they had received.
Some handed out flowers while others shared drink.
The amount of serenity I had witnessed
Was enough for me to wish
The Harvester Page 3
